


Misunderstood

by whateverduuuuude



Series: Crowd pleaser [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whateverduuuuude/pseuds/whateverduuuuude
Summary: Mordred thinks Merlin is a lazy servant, not realising Merlin's true role





	Misunderstood

Sir Mordred watched Merlin about the palace in his daily rounds. He seemed to just loiter, sitting elegantly on some window ledge or stood in a doorway talking. Never outside, though the boy's pale skin looked as if it would burn if he left the palace. He seemed to have no duties, either, never waited at feasts, never cleaned the windows. It frustrated him, the boy not pulling his weight within the castle. 

“Would you please mop the courtyard tiles, Merlin? You never seem to do anything around here,” he huffed. 

“Oh, sorry. Where would I find a mop?” 

“They're in the cleaning cupboard.” Merlin stared blankly. “Third door on the left,” he sighed, pointing. 

“Right.” Merlin nodded, walking down the corridor and opening the door. “Do you know where I could find some gloves?” 

“The rest of the servants don't wear gloves,” he said snootily, turning. 

Merlin found a bucket of water and set to work mopping the courtyard, conscious of the sun against his skin. He'd been at work less than five minutes before he felt a pair of hands on his, putting the mop away and leading him under the terrace. “Merlin darling, whatever are you doing?” Arthur asked, sitting him down on a bench. 

“Mopping.” 

“Why? You know you don't do things like that, not out in the sun either.” 

“Sir Mordred told me to. Said I never do any work around here,” he muttered, looking up meekly. “I didn't want to argue.” 

“Sh, it's alright precious. Are your hands sore?” He took Merlin's wrists softly, turning them over to see Merlin's palms. They were a little red, but his skin was still perfectly smooth. 

“I may need some lotion.” 

“And are you burnt?” He looked at Merlin's neck and ears, frowning. “I shall need to talk to Sir Mordred. In the meantime, why don't you head to my chambers and get yourself some mead, wrap yourself up nice and cosy. There should be a fire.” 

“Alright. Do you have any sweets?” 

“I'll bring some up precious. I'll give you some lotion when I arrive, I won't be long.” 

“Sir Mordred,” Arthur said sternly, walking into the great hall. “Can I ask why you sent Merlin to mop the courtyard?” 

“I um, well it needed mopping. I thought him as suitable a servant as any other.” 

“Oh, did you?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Well you were much mistaken. What if his hands had become calloused and cracked, or if he had burnt in the afternoon sun?” 

“Cracked hands are not so unbecoming of a household servant.” 

Arthur placed a hand on Mordred. “What do you think Merlin's role is?” 

“Clearly not what I thought it was.” 

“My dear Merlin attends to my bedchamber. And to those of some of my knights, on special occasion. Other than that, he stays indoors, is fed the finest foods and pampered beyond belief. Do you understand?” 

“Yes sire. Sorry.” 

“Alright. I should see to him.” 

Arthur closed the door softly, padding over to Merlin, who was nursing a cup of spiced wine, wrapped in one of Arthur's furs. “Are you alright now sweetness?” 

“I'm alright. Did you bring sweets?” 

Arthur took out a box from his pocket, unwrapping one for Merlin to suck on. “There you are darling. Now,” he said, taking the cup and putting it on the floor. “Hold out your hands for me.” 

Merlin displayed them, Arthur taking a pot of lotion from his pocket and beginning to rub some into Merlin's tender skin. “Ow.” 

“It's a splinter. God, I could kill him,” Arthur said, walking over to find some tweezers. He pulled it out carefully, flicking it into the fire. “You need to rest.” He gave Merlin his wine back. “I have training, but I think Gwaine is free if you want me to find him.”

“Please.” 

“Alright my sweet. You just relax.” 

“Hello my darling. I hear you've had quite an ordeal,” Gwaine said, sitting down with his feet on the sofa. “How are you feeling?” 

“Not too bad. My finger hurts though,” he said, stroking over the tiny cut. “Splinter.” 

“Oh, sweetling. How long were you outside for?” 

“I'm not sure. Probably five minutes, but I had to carry the bucket to the pump and back,” he said, feeling Gwaine's rough fingers on his cheek. 

“Nasty Sir Mordred. Nasty man.” 

“He wasn't to know,” Merlin protested.

“No, of course. Ruined my plans for tonight though,” he said, frowning. “Me and Arthur.”

“Mm. If I rest this afternoon, maybe I can still join in,” Merlin said, batting his eyelashes. “Or I could watch.” 

“You just rest darling. What can we get you for lunch?”


End file.
